Thursday, October 13, 2011

It Ain't Hunky Dory

This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef. And this little piggy had none. This little piggy went "Wee wee wee stop open mouth fondling me you herpified whores!" What were once innocent pecks on the cheeks between mother and son or grandma and grandbaby are now disease ridden, bacteria filled, invitations to a lifelong battle of fighting festering sores. Sadly, the days of sharing lollipops and ice cream cones are over. Had Disney known then what we all know now, those two dogs never would have dared to share that noodle of spaghetti - let alone sit at the same table without a SARS mask covering their noses. It's a filthy world with filthy people engaging in filthy things. Thankfully, we have a man of God who cries more tears than a weeping Virgin Mary statue in a tiny village outside of Bangladesh to keep us straight. Sure, his namesake tattoo says "HATERZ" and he has hooves for feet, but he's herpe-free people! In the grand scheme of things, that's all that really matters. Clean hooves and a blister free existence. Let's recap, shall we?

Our South Pacific journey continues with the arrival of Spacey (Stacey) on Rhode Island (Redemption Island). Christine Baxter Birney stirs from her bed of dried leaves and acorns and asks, "Who is that?" Spacey replies, "Chrispeen Moon Pie, it's me, Scracey. Them snakes ovah de're, up in da hood. Shoooot. Girrrrl, Coach runnin' all up an' things ain't hunky dory. Hunky dory hell no. All y'all gonna go ta hell wit gasoline draw's awn!" I think that translates to, "I'm fine. How are you?" Who the hell knows? The point of the story is this - Spacey is pissed off and now she's gonna start a bees nest with Twinkies and then Yo Gabba Gabba those M'effer's back to where they belong. I have no idea what that means, but this lady cuts people open for a living so guard your broccoli and your socks. That's all we can do. Stock up on pantyhose and saran wrap and wait for Spacey to strike.

A new day dawns and it's a chilly morning over at Impala (Upolu). Not only is that feather sprite Edna huddled by the campfire wrapped in a banana skin, but our Christian representative of Latter Day Demonfolk, Lil Hantz, has a bee in his bonnet and a boner, I mean, bone to pick with that evil temptress Mikayla. You see, last night at Tribal Council, Mikayla blamed Brandon's notoriously evil uncle for this tortured manchild we see before us now. She just can't let it go that young Brandon shares the same bloodline and, as a result, she's having a hard time separating the two in the game. Grandpappy Hantz is not a racehorse Mikayla. He's not a pure bred Scottish Deerhound siring pups to win the Westminster Dog Show who then weasel their way into Survivor for generations to come. Brandon is a potpourri of delusion and insanity all on his very own. Russell was nothing more than a megalomaniac with a Napoleanic Complex whereas Brandon is a kerfluffle of inner demons and angst. It's fine for you to not like Brandon, Mikayla, but you've got to justify it with a little more than, "But but Russell is his uncle!"

So after a long night of prayer, contemplation, and tears, Brandon has circled back to the conclusion that girls in booty shorts simply can't be trusted. One of these days God will strike her down with either a bolt of lightning or a wayward metorite, but until then we've got a duel to attend. Representing Impala, we have Albert and the award winning genealogist Mikayla. Representing Savannah, we have Dawn and some girl we hardly know, Whitney. Whitney is like the Brett Clouser of Survivor South Pacific. Occasionally, we see her peeking out from behind a tree and holding up a hollowed out coconut half to be filled with rice, but, other than that, she's nothing more than a whisper in this game of freaky freakies. If only Survivor were more like the Real Housewives. Either deliver the crazy or you're out!

Our warriors, Christine Diamond Phillips and Spacey, are marched into the arena and it's immediately a hotbed of insanity. Dimples asks Spacey an innocent question about her tribe and I don't know what kind of peyote Christine Cox Arquette is growing over there on Rhode Island, but the technicolor word vomit that spilled out of Spacey's mouth is one for your Survivor scrapbooks. From what I can gather, some guy named Chucky The Cheese likes to tell jokes on Halloween and another guy named Benjamin may or may not have tried to give Spacey a hood. Seeing as Spacey is a black woman and hoods probably don't bring back the best of memories for her, Spacey told Benjamin to, "Keep that hood. Boop!" Therefore, I can only conclude that if this Benjamin character manages to hand out his hoods, a race war will ensue. While I appreciate the warning about this evil milliner, Benjamin, I'm more worried about this Chucky person. Is he a purveyor of cheese or is he made of cheese? If he's made of cheese, I can fight him off with a grater and a ready glass of wine. If he's a maker of cheese, then I fear he could lure me into his cheese factory with nothing more than a cube of extra sharp cheddar or Pecorino on a stick. I need answers Spacey!

Alas, answers I would not get, but you know what I did get? A new nickname! It's time to meet Welch's (Albert). We'll be hearing a lot more about Welch's shortly, but all you need to know for now is that he doesn't care for sour grapes one bit. In fact, they make him sneer and purse his lips. Sour grapes not only don't make a tasty juice, but they're an affront to everything the Welch's brand stands for. One sour grape can ruin the whole bunch.

Alright, for this duel, players will drop a ball down a chute where it'll spiral downward and fall out. Competitors much catch the ball and put it back into the chute. Every few minutes, another ball will be added making them harder to track and harder to catch. The first person who lets a ball hit the floor is out. Survivors ready, go!

Christine Harvey Oswald drops a ball down her chute, Spacey drops a ball down her chute, and we're off! Swirl, swirl, swirl, down go the balls. Christine Ann Womack is deliberate in her timing while Spacey is juggling balls over her head, chucking balls at her old tribemates, and dropping 2,3,4 down the chute at a time. In the stands, Welch's hurled back nice juicy plump ripe grapes and one must have hit Spacey in the head or something because CHRISTINE LEE LEWIS STAYS ALIVE!!!

Back at Impala, Welch's is the bearer of bad tidings. He scurries over to Coach forthwith and tells him all about how Spacey made a big production of calling Coach, "Benjamin." Now, I can see getting upset if Spacey called him "Roach" or "Couch", but "Benjamin" isn't really an insult. And, correct me if I wrong, but isn't Coach, "Benjamin Coach Wade" on Facebook? In the grand scheme of things, Coach is still in the game and Spacey isn't. That's all that matters! Please, if I got upset every time someone called me "Mystic Young Beaver", there wouldn't be enough hours in the day to get anything done. Get over it, move on.

Over at Savannah, the mood is very different. A coquettish scamp named ChickenHawk (Elyse) is draping herself all over our god of the sea, Ozzy, and life is but a dream. The sand is white, the water is aquamarine, a cool breeze blows through the palm trees, and it's just another lazy day in the South Pacific. Meanwhile, a bespectacled gangly fellow is busy carrying a thimble full of twigs back to camp. If Cochran can't win at challenges and can't lie supine with the ladyfolk fanning him with giant leaves, then he'll be the camp's housekeeper and make himself impossible to vote off. ChickenHawk nonchalantly places her hand on Ozzy's thigh as she throws her head back and laughs, "You're the little Cochran that could!" She walks her fingers one by one up the inside of Ozzy's shorts while Ozzy swats them away and asks Cochran how it is he spells his name. While the public handjob was mildly uncomfortable for Cochran to witness, this questioning of how to spell his name is positively nightmarish. There's only reason to want to know how to spell his name and that's to write it down at Tribal Council. Cochran drops his thimble of twigs, tells Ozzy not to worry his pretty little head about things like spelling or phonetics, and is thankfully interrupted by Dawn who is just dying to gossip all about Rhode Island.

Dawn Dawn the soccer mom tells her tribe how the Impala's aren't targeting the weak at all. Instead, they're targeting everyone who's anti-Coach. She thinks she's giving her tribe valuable information when, in fact, the look on Ozzy's face is one of, "Shut up!" Trust me, the last thing Ozzy wants is everyone thinking that going after a vet is a good idea. Without thinking, he blurts out, "If Coach is smart, he'll get rid of Welch's soon." Mary Jane's (Jim) eyebrows do a 180 and he asks, "Why would you get rid of Welch's?!" Thankfully, motormouth Dawn was still talking about all the new recipes she got down at the hair salon so no one really heard (or paid attention to) Mary Jane's question. Mary Jane, however, thinks Ozzy revealing that if he were Coach, he'd get rid of Welch's before the Merge is very telling. The equivalent to someone like Welch's at Savannah is Mary Jane or Keith. Does this mean one of them could be next on Ozzy's list? Mary Jane and his dead eyes smile with this new knowledge as he calmly puts it in his pocket and begins to make plans for ChickenHawk's departure.

Back at Impala, Welch's has spent the entire day playing and replaying everything that went on at Rhode Island over and over again in his mind. Out of all the things to worry about on Survivor, the lunatic rantings of a woman on her way out are pretty low down on the list in my mind. Welch's, however, is more concerned than ever about his well being now and worries that, come Merge time, he'll be a huge target. He decides then and there that it's in his best interest to go looking for the Hidden Immunity Idol and make sure he has an insurance plan for down the road. Hey, I agree. Get the Idol. Everyone should be hunting for that damn Idol. The second you get to camp, you should be searching for that thing. You can't be obnoxious about it like Christine Barrett Browning, Kristina (one of my favorite bitches of all time), or Nanook was, but you should definitely make a little time everyday to start looking. That's what I would do. Then again, I'd also smuggle a flask in my hoo-ha and have extensions made out of Twizzlers woven into my hair beforehand. So, you know, whatevs.

With the heat bearing down on his back, Welch's moseys this-a-way and that-a-way wondering where that Idol could be. He walks by a tree, looks down, and boom! - he finds the clue. It says a whole lot of mumbo jumbo about the tides and trees and the Idol being out of reach. I'm no wizard, but I think that translates to "The Idol is up in a tree on the beach." Compared to other clues in the past that have read, "The Idol is somewhere in your camp.", it's pretty specific. With a pair of snorkle goggles strapped to his head, Welch's swings from limb to limb and searches tree after tree after tree. If you've seen one South Pacifican tree, you've seen them all. The leaves begin to jumble, the branches entwine into mazes of confusion, and it's all too much for an innocent grape boy to take. Welch's then decides to enlist the help of his good friends Coach and Sophie. *smacks self in head* Welch's, no! What good is Coach or Sophie finding the Idol going to do for you? If they find it, it's their Idol.

So, the Three Stooges separate and each goes off into a different direction. Coach carefully combs the beach and after a thorough search of one or two trees, he too decides that he is in need of assistance. However, the assistance he seeks isn't from another tribe member. It's from a much higher power - God. With a few choice words to his lord and savior and another ascension up a tree, Coach finds the Idol and not a thing in the world can wipe the smile off his face. Fire may represent life to Dimples, but this Idol represents life to Coach. When all hope seemed lost and that nasty cloud of "Benjamin" was hanging over his head, God took the time out of his busy schedule and turned that frown upside down. Wasn't that nice of Him?

Over at Savannah, Cochran is continuing his "I am valuable!" bar tour and is about to embark on a little fishing escapade with Ozzy. If he uses his hands thoughtfully, he too can deliver our monkey boy a handjob before the day is through. First off, what's up with the tribes having boats? A reader sent me a Facebook message a while ago asking, "Hey Lala, why do these a-holes have friggin' boats?" I paraphrased that a little as I like to give the impression that all of my readers are hell raising hooligans. I replied, "I do not know milady, but please do not curse around me." I never heard back from her so I can only assume she lives in a town like in Footloose and was arrested for not only dancing on tables topless, but for cursing like a sailor.

Ozzy reluctantly tosses Cochran into the boat and off they go in search of sustenance. I'm not sure what Cochran did the whole time, but I know Ozzy pontificated a whole hell of a lot about how fishing is oh so hard. His fingers get pruny, his hair frizzes, it takes forever for his shorts to dry, and underwater is a handjob-free environment which, if you're Ozzy, is the purest form of torture. Once Ozzy spears his bounty, he takes the long sea god walk back to shore. It's a funny walk with slow strides, a spear in one hand, and fish in the other. The womenfolk awaiting on the beach squeal and cheer as he approaches while Cochran rolled his eyes in the background and promptly tumbled over the side of the boat. With the rest of the camp feeding Ozzy grapes one by one, Cochran crawls onto shore and glares at all the laziness in anger. The jealousy is running deep within Cochran, but he needs to keep it in check. Yes, Ozzy is everything Cochran isn't, but Ozzy isn't invincible. Let him get comfortable. Let him feel safe. Play along. He'll get what he deserves soon enough.

And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge or what I like call Herpe Haven. What you are about to witness my friends is an exercise in lust and gluttony. In the center of the challenge area stands Dimples with an evil little smile on his face. "Come on in guys!", he giggles to himself. And then we see it, two giant pig carcasses hanging on a spit just waiting to be devoured. Drool begins to drip down Rancher Rick's chin while Ozzy thinks to himself, "I could have killed that... if I wanted to." For today's challenge, each tribe, with their hands tied behind their back, will take bites out of their pigs and then spit the bites into a basket. Tribe members might be tempted to eat the piggy, but they'll risk losing the challenge. The tribe who has the most meat in their basket wins Immunity plus a Reward of veggies, spices, and bread. Survivors ready, go!

I fully expected the spitting out of the meat to be kind of gross, but what I didn't expect was a delicious display of lovemaking. It wasn't exactly Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger in 9 1/2 Weeks - ham doesn't have that sexy thang that honey does - but there was a lot of licking and biting and sucking and spitting. Dawn the soccer mom dove right into Keith's tonsils, Edna tongue wrestled a little bit with Coach, and even Rancher Rick got a tad frisky with Brandon. But it was when Mikayla stood helpless with a piece of pork belly hanging from her teeth that I surprised myself by shouting, "Brandon, here's your chance!" Right there, in the middle of all the meat flying and the sauce dripping, Brandon finally got to do what he's wanted to do for so so long. He got all up in that bitch! Hoo yeah! Way to go buddy. I don't know why, but I was happy for young Hantz in that moment. Maybe now that it's all out of his system and Mikayla is nothing more than another chick with ham in her teeth, he'll stop being such a weirdo and get his head back in the game.

In the end, no matter how much phlegm Mary Jane deposited into the Savannah's basket (barf), it wasn't enough to beat those Impalas. Was it the bite Rancher Rick dropped in the dirt and Mikayla stopped to pick up that made the difference? I don't know, but... IMPALA WINS IMMUNITY!!! Better yet, they win all the spit-covered meat they could ever want.

While the Impalas are enjoying a feast of ham, spit, mucus, the Savannah's are sad little monkeys. Dawn swiffers the camp looking for the other half of her molar while ChickenHawk sat bitching about the breakouts that are inevitable in her near future. Cochran scoffs and says, "You think breakouts are bad? We're all going to have oral herpes tomorrow." *stifles giggles* I still have no idea if he was being serious or just being a total dick, but that shit was funny. There's nothing like putting the fear of an incurable sexually transmitted disease into your fellow tribemates to promote tribe unity. Naturally, everyone else is horrified, but Cochran isn't finished! He goes on to tell his tribe that 99.9% of people have herpes. LOL As this is a very scientific blog, I googled, "How many people have herpes?" The answer is 1 in 6 - which, quite honestly, is just as bad as 99.9%. I had no idea the number was that high. Gross. Well, it's a good thing Cochran isn't a med student. At least there's that.

After Cochran essentially calls his tribe a gaggle of whores, he peeks out from behind his glasses and asks, "Anyone want me to open them a coconut? I'm getting really good at it." No way! You probably touched your mouth to pick out some meat and then you'll touch the machete and then the machete will touch the coconut and it'll be a herpified free for all! That's how those canteloupe people died you know. Slicing through the bacteria. I don't know if ChickenHawk was pissed off by the herpes remark or what, but the second Cochran turns his back, she mocks him for trying so hard. And, let's face it, he is. It's painfully obvious he's sucking up to the very people he hates and it makes me cringe every time he does it. Running around cleaning up after people, doesn't make you valuable. It makes you weak. Don't get me wrong, I like Cochran and I'm kind of rooting for him. I just wish he'd stop being so obvious.

With Cochran off dusting the trees and borrowing Dawn's Swiffer, Ozzy tells his alliance to vote for Cochran at Tribal Council. Thankfully, Dawn has the wherewithal to question this decision and immediately goes to Cochran to tell him that ChickenHawk needs to go home tonight. Cochran takes it to Mary Jane and now it's up to Mary Jane to get that 4th vote they need. He approaches the Energizer Bunny with the intel about Ozzy saying Coach should get rid of Welch's and the Bunny agrees that ChickenHawk needs to go. For some reason though, that freaky bunny wants to actually tell Ozzy about the ChickenHawk plan. He's scared Ozzy won't trust him anymore. To that I say, "Who cares!" Ozzy not only has the majority right now, but he also has the Idol. Remember, Energizer Bunny knows about the Idol. If you're going to go so far as to vote out a member of your alliance, you might as well go balls to the wall and continue on the path that will cripple Ozzy. Take away his paramour and then, maybe next week, take away his Idol. Easy peasy.

We arrive at Tribal Council and - boo hoo - everyone cut their lips on the meat! Oh please, I broke my freaking toe yesterday and I walk like the gentleman in the above photo now. Then again, zombies are the new vampires. Hot. Anyhow, don't bitch to me about how you bit your lip while face first in a hog's ass while competing for a million dollars. That's like me saying I got a paper cut entering the Publisher's Clearing House. Talk to me when you've got a penis fish or your fingers melted off.

I hate to do this because you know how I love my tribals, but real life is intervening and I've got to cut this one short today. In the end, it came down to ChickenHawk thinking they should keep the tribe strong, Cochran bitching about not wearing his retainer, and Dawn asking Dimples if he knows anyone in casting over at Extreme Couponing. With 2 votes for Cochran, 2 votes for Dawn (Keith you pussy!), and 3 votes for ChickenHawk. ChickenHawk is the 5th person voted out of Survivor South Pacific.

So, what did you guys think of last night's episode? Should Welch's have told Coach and Sophie about the Idol clue? Is God looking out for Coach? Will Mikayla give birth to a short stocky daughter who likes to play sports in her underwear? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!